May I illustrate? I will illustrate.
The eye passes over you. This is what is terrifying. It does not look through you. It passes over. It passes over as if your outline is a blankness in the world, a silhouette cutout propped against the ether. The eye moves and at the exact moment it encounters you nothing changes in it, and as the gaze leaves you also nothing changes. It looks at you like it looks at everything else. Blankness, fullness, whatever.